


Silk

by Valeria2067



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is not sure what to do with the silk accessory he has been given. Sherlock has the perfect idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silk

John’s face fell, and his stomach lurched inside.

“Oh, God, no… This can’t…. no…”

Sherlock glanced up from his file of medical reports. As he did so, he felt an extremely rare sensation: mild surprise.  
He had seen the package arrive that morning for John, and he’d determined it to contain tissue paper and a lightweight piece of fabric, most likely the tie Harry expected John to wear to her vow-renewal ceremony with Clara. What Sherlock had not predicted was the degree of consternation it would cause John.

“Problem?” he asked.

John gave a pained expression and lifted out the contents of the box. It was a silk scarf – fine silk, Sherlock could tell, even from that distance. It was also a luminous, one might even say provocative, shade of deep pink. A floral pattern picked out in white decorated one edge and each end.

“It’s lovely, John. I think it suits you,” Sherlock said, grinning.

“She can’t really expect me to wear this, can she? I mean, .. Sherlock… my mates from school will be there, for God’s sake!”

Sherlock closed the file and moved to stand opposite John. He took the scarf and held it appreciatively up to the light.

“John, speaking as your official escort to this function,” he said, “I must warn you that many of the guests will notice that your date is a male. Some may even find cause to question whether you are, in fact, still exclusively heterosexual.”

An exasperated sigh escaped John’s throat, and he put his hand to his forehead. “It’s not…. It isn’t that, Sherlock.” He looked up and met the taller man’s gaze. “I don’t mind them knowing we’re….together. But this kind of thing,” he gestured to the scarf, “It gives an impression.”

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “Ah. I see.” John saw something indefinable in Sherlock’s gaze. “So the impression you prefer to give, John, is that you are not gay, but that your boyfriend is.”

John closed his eyes as though someone had thrown a drink in his face. When he opened them again, Sherlock was still staring at him, his expression completely impassive.

“Sherlock,” he said in a measured tone, “You of all people know that’s not true.” It seemed that the taller man’s shoulders relaxed a bit at this. “I’m just not the kind of bloke who wears bloody floral pink!”

Sherlock smiled and held the scarf up next to John’s face. “Perhaps you should. It brings out the flush in your cheeks. Even more so now, I see.”

John’s color had indeed begun to rise. Sherlock slightly parted the fingers which held the scarf. With his other hand, he caught the very end and brought it up to John’s lips. John swallowed. Slowly, Sherlock continued to drag the fine material along John’s mouth and across his jawline. He could see the effect he was having: John’s pupils dilated, his breathing increased. John reached up to take Sherlock’s hand, but before he could, Sherlock had looped the scarf around John’s neck. 

Sherlock pulled John’s face close to his own. John moved in to kiss him, and found instead that a barrier of silk was between their lips. “What-“ he managed to mumble before the silk scarf tightened around his mouth and wrapped behind his head. Sherlock pulled the ends even tighter, and the scarf slipped between John’s lips and teeth, effectively creating a gag. John began to shake his head ‘no’ but Sherlock pressed his own lips against John’s. He took first the upper one, then the lower into his mouth, caressing them with his tongue as John’s tongue remained captive. John instinctively wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist. He uttered a few wonderfully-muffled moans as Sherlock continued to kiss him over, around, and behind the silk gag.

John felt long fingers grip his wrists and push them back behind his own back. All the while, his mouth was held prisoner by Sherlock’s intense kisses. He was beginning to feel dizzy. 

The scarf was long enough for the ends to reach from the twist at the nape of John’s neck down to John’s wrists, if Sherlock pushed them up high enough behind his back. He expertly bound John’s wrists and then moved so that John was all but leaning against the wall.

John uttered a growling sigh as Sherlock unbuttoned John’s shirt and began to focus his kisses on the tawny neck, the hollow at the base of his throat, the collarbone that was moving in time to John’s deep, quick breaths. Sherlock knew John was good with his hands; John had driven Sherlock mad with those strong fingers and those caresses many a time. Now, though, John was forced to receive all the attention, and the sense of power Sherlock felt was intoxicating.

A few moments more, and Sherlock’s hands were unbuckling John’s belt, undoing the zip, caressing and stroking John’s hardness. “Mmmmphph!” John groaned, unable to resort to the string of expletives he usually employed. Sherlock placed his mouth next to John’s ear and growled with pleasure himself. “You appear to be at my mercy, Doctor Watson. And I do believe I will have to make it worth your while.”

Sherlock kissed John’s neck and collarbone, kissed his sternum, his navel, and finally knelt and took John into his mouth. John’s hips began to move, and he uttered strangled cries of pleasure. At the last moment, Sherlock reached up behind John to hold his bound hands. John’s head was thrown back in ecstasy. He squeezed Sherlock’s hands with as much strength as he could get into his now-tingling fingers. The orgasm was so intense, he thought he might actually black out.

John felt Sherlock untying his wrists. Next Sherlock removed the scarf, wet and crushed where it had been trapped in John’s mouth. John pulled Sherlock’s toward him and kissed his long, exquisite neck. His breath was still coming out in gasps. 

“Fucking hell, Sherlock. What was THAT?” he breathed.

Sherlock put his hand alongside John’s face.

“THAT,” he said, “Was just a minor show of appreciation for your excellent taste in scarves.”


End file.
